


Negative Space

by the_moonmoth



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Quantum Mechanics, Soul Bond, Tower of Babel, we've got it all!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 20:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30111741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_moonmoth/pseuds/the_moonmoth
Summary: Written for the prompt "God ships them"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86





	Negative Space

**Author's Note:**

> This is somewhat orthogonal to the prompt, and intentionally weird, but it was originally meant to be even weirder, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“God,” Albert Einstein once said, “does not play dice with the universe.” He was right, of course. I find cards are a lot more fun. 

He was referring to Quantum Mechanics, that discipline in which the neat rules of Newton and Bohr are replaced by something that far more closely resembles ineffability. 

The thing about making new life, is that it takes a part of you with it. That’s how it works. Not in a depleting way -- I _am_ all powerful -- but more like a gift. I made Eve in My image, that’s obvious enough for even the most simple minded of My humans to grasp, but of course there’s more to it than that. I am beyond anyone's understanding but My own... but in human terms, you could say My presence in the world is like one of those optical illusions. The harder you stare, the harder it is to see. It’s only when the eye relaxes...

They tried to build a tower to reach Me, once. That was the start of it. They were arrogant, as those with newfound power over others tend to become. (I made them like that, too. Honestly, I don’t know where they got that “God is kind” idea from; eternity is ineffing boring and Ya Girl needs some drama to enjoy with Her celestial popcorn). Knocking that thing down was the most fun I’d had since the Flood. 

The universe is 99.9999999999999999999958 percent empty space. To put it in simple terms: it’s a whole lot of nothing out there. Every school child [1] these days knows that Stuff is made of Atoms, and most, if pressed, could probably recite something about a nucleus and its neat little rings of orbiting electrons. But subatomic particles, as Albert’s colleagues were concluding all around him, are really fucking weird [2], far weirder than most human minds can properly conceive, fuzzy bundles of probability, maybe here, more likely there, with the outer atomic shell as indistinct as the cotton balls Aziraphale uses to remove his nail polish when his manicure begins to chip, and all kept in check by forces so intangible there is no way to actually know they’re there other than that they must be. 

Albert _hated_ it. He thought I wouldn’t make a universe so dependent on chance. He could’ve learned a thing or two from a certain angel.

It might not be obvious to the mortal mind, but the link between the tower and the atom goes along common lines of imagination (and I did give them plenty of that, too). I am the space between electrons, and I am the mathematical uncertainty of their location. I am the space between ideas, and I am the chaos of their execution. I am the space between the feathers of an angel’s wing (or a demon’s), and I am the breath between ‘my side’ and ‘ours.’

I am even on a cliff top, on a tiny island in the North Sea, deserted except for an angel and a demon who have come here to do something very specific indeed. They don’t know the full ramifications of it yet, and they may never, but these two have always leaped before looking, especially where the other is concerned (I _did not_ make them that way, but the pair of them somehow got lost in the infinite shuffle of My own ineffable game, so here we are).

And here they are, standing facing one another as the wind whips their coats, their hair, Aziraphale’s scarf. But don’t look directly at them: look at the space between them. Let them fade out, and instead observe a shape like a spindle or a chess piece, perhaps an elegant, oddly-formed vase, made up of blue sky and white clouds and sparkling sea. Watch as it gets thinner and finer as the pair move closer to one another, until it winks out altogether. Watch as they begin to glow, the angel lightning-blue, the demon fiery-orange, as tendrils whip out beyond their corporations like solar flares. Watch as their human bodies fade away completely for a moment, as they reach out to one another, as they merge and bond and fill each other’s empty spaces, all the way down to their atoms. 

So that there is no longer any space for Me. 

Which is exactly how both of them would want it.

* * *

[1] barring America, and parts of fundamentalist Cornwall

[2] technical term

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Negative Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30158913) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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